


l’appel du vide.

by tastylemonade



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxious Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Brotherly Bonding, Connor is bad with confessing feelings, F/M, Human AU, Human!Connor Hell, M/M, Other, POV Second Person, RK800-60 is a little shit, Smoking, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, he's never been in love so it's strange, reverse!au - Freeform, what a cutie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 01:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16965045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastylemonade/pseuds/tastylemonade
Summary: Connor is in denial of his feelings. He attempts to let you know. It goes about as well as you’d expect.





	1. I.

“You’re in love, dumbass.”  
  
So absurd, you think. You couldn’t be… no, you most certainly were  _not_ that. Infatuated, maybe- more or less distracted. A brief bump in the road. A mere  _deterrent_ from your ever growing, demanding work load.

No… you take that back. They were more than that, had become more than a daily nuisance.

More than a close friend within the last year.

More than you could ever ask for.

~~More than you deserved.~~

Okay, alright—  _very_ distracted.

Consumed with thoughts of  _them_. How they made you  _feel_ so damn good. A soothing balm, not a lame patch job over the rather large hole in your heart that always made living a complication. Their smile was something you longed to find every morning you woke, something you wouldn’t mind seeing for the rest of your life. You tried,  _oh did you try_ to keep a distance, to shut them out.

You were a bit worse for wear, you’re too brash, your drinking habit got the best of you sometimes. You had a nicotine addiction that required you to have at least a pack a day. If you weren’t passed out underneath case files, you could be found at the nearest bar. You had baggage bigger than the circles under your eyes. Hell, ask  _anyone_ in the precinct and they would say, “you wanna get close to Anderson? Don’t. You’ve got a better chance at becoming best friends with Reed.”

And they damningly persisted, still.

And you, weak under their gaze, let them in, still.

And the walls that you had built so  _high_ and structurally sound for  _so long_ collapsed before you, dust and debris remaining at your feet. Defenseless.

Vulnerable for the first time in your seemingly empty life. Bewitched. Head over heels. Completely and utterly…

“Hey, you still there? Earth to Connor?”

_God, you could really go for a cigare_ _tte._

“Huh?,” you answer with an absent minded blink. Your twin brother seems to be losing his patience as the seconds pass by, but all you can think about is if you’d remember to ask your… “significant other” what was on the menu for dinner tonight. You should really tell 60 that his face will stick that way if he doesn’t fix it, grimace and all.

Wait a minute- did you remember to clock out for your lunch break?

“If you don’t fix your face it’ll get stuck like that forever.” His eyes roll, and you gulp down the rest of your second energy drink for the day. Yes, you really needed it, especially after this dreadful conversation.

60 is staring intently at you now, but there’s a playful glint in his eye. His grin makes you weary. “You’re so clueless- no, I think you know. But you’re such a stubborn fool you can’t admit it to even yourself.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you absolutely hated how right he was. You hated admitting  _any_ time your brothers were right, actually. “Have you always been this aggravating?” He scoffs at you. A quick glance at your watch reminds you that-  _shit_ \- you’d both better head back to the department in a couple minutes. Finally, a chance to escape- no, he’s giving you  _that_ look, which means,  _Connor if you get up from that chair I swear on Nines’ right fucking hand I’ll embarrass us both_.

You sink back into the seat.

Looks like you’ve got no choice.

“You’re scared, Con. You’re terrified of what could happen once the words leave your mouth.” His smile returns, voice soft. You hope it’s not out of pity. “You’re so easy to read sometimes. I’m certain they already know.” “I am not  _easy to read_ ,” you mutter unconvincingly. “Probably just your brotherly intuition.” That would make you feel much better about all of… this.

60 suddenly stands with a stretch of his arms, a loud yawn escaping him. “Alright. Don’t listen to me, then. It’ll eat at you, though, so I’ve done my job.” He misses the glare you throw his way while reaching for the police cruiser keys. It’s fine, you suppose. You didn’t feel like driving, anyway.

“Back to our regularly scheduled program, the Anderson brothers in: how to deny your own feelings in one thousand different ways, starring Connor Anderson…!” You’ve tuned him out by now, but the heavy ache in your chest doesn’t leave you.


	2. II.

A crack of thunder abruptly wakes you from your unbidden rest. Oh great, you drooled this time. Hastily, you wipe the corners of your mouth and peer around the precinct. Still a full house, for the most part. Phew. For a second, you thought you’d slept past five o’clock. Normally you couldn’t give any less of a fuck, but home sounded better than being anywhere else.  _Jacket, check. Wallet, check._ You sign off your station with familiarity.  _313248, password: 31751. Why does it feel like you’re being stared at?_

Oh. Hm. Everyone _is_ staring at you.

Even Reed, who learned to keep his distance, gawked at you like a damn side show animal. Captain Fowler, of all people, had paused from sifting through reports to watch you curiously. Your younger brother, Nines, gives you a knowing (and almost mischievous) smile and returns his gaze to his computer screen. Pfft. You don’t have time for this shit.  _Where did you put your keys again?_

You are still trying to decide if you should, and how you would go about saying  _it_ , when your phone tells you that dinner will consist of homemade pasta alla puttanesca.  _Of course_. You don’t fight the smile that forms after reading the notification. You leave swiftly, keys in hand, with every single pair of eyes from the Detroit Police Department on your back.

—

You now stood at the entrance of the small home you both have shared for the last few months. After things had developed more seriously, you didn’t see any harm in them moving in. Besides, it was…  _nice_ having someone to come home to other than Sumo. Your nightmares seemed to have vanished entirely. You didn’t have to call them at random hours of the night when you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get their face out of your head. Their voice greeted you every morning along with the sunlight pouring through your windows. Their kisses, always so tender, would stir something deep and primal within you, igniting with every soft touch.

Another rumble in the sky urges you to head inside soon. You take one, two more deep pulls of the cigarette hanging on your lips before rubbing it out with your foot and decide it’ll be your last. You unlock the top lock with a worn house key. You let go of a breath you don’t remember holding in. Your hand hovers over the door knob, and now you notice it’s trembling. You can’t seem to move it forward. Why did you pause?  _Get a fucking grip, Connor._ Anxious. You are so fucking anxious, but you longed to see them, to find the comfort in their eyes. You had to tell them tonight, you had to-

_So much light, all of a sudden- oh_. The door swings open, and you feel at ease once more. “Thought you’d never show, Anderson.” They give you a crooked smile and you melt for the ten thousandth time.


	3. III.

“Dinner is almost ready hon, I’m just waiting for the pasta to finish boiling.” Inside, you were grateful for the warmth. You gave their cheek a small peck before heading towards the refrigerator. “I don’t mind.”  _Tell them._  "Not like you have a choice, baby.“ Their laughter fills the kitchen, and you reach for a bottle of beer. You stop, blink, and pull out a bottle of water instead.  _Just fucking say it._ The microwave timer goes off. You shut the fridge door. “Hah! Right when you walk in… let me drain this and then we can eat.” You don’t answer. Instead, you set the water down and watch them lift the pot off the stove. You should help them.  _For once in your fucking life. do something right-_

“I love you.”

It falls before you’re able to catch it, and now the kitchen floor is covered in hot water and sticky pasta noodles. This was foolish, you knew it. You’ve ruined everything, and yet couldn’t stop the words tumbling from your mouth. “I… I love you. I don’t remember when I started to, but I bet it was the very first day I met you, because since then I haven’t been able to stop fucking thinking about you, and all I know now is that you are everything to me, you mean  _everything_ to me, and I’ve never felt this way about  _anyone,_ and I’m so afraid because no one has ever gotten this close to me, and now I’m terrified of los-”

“I love you, too.”

You’re not prepared for this reaction. Actually, you weren’t prepared at all, but you feel their soft hands wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"Wh-what?"

“I love you, you damned stubborn idiot.” You suddenly feel exhausted, but you wrap your arms around them and pull them closer, anyway.

“Take out?”

“…yes. Small lo mein-”

“-light sauce, extra green onions. I know.”


End file.
